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　　The Winter Of Life

　　But lately seen in gladsome green,

　　The woods rejoic'd the day,

　　Thro' gentle showers, the laughing flowers

　　In double pride were gay:

　　But now our joys are fled

　　On winter blasts awa;

　　Yet maiden May, in rich array,

　　Again shall bring them a'.

　　But my white pow, nae kindly thowe

　　Shall melt the snaws of Age;

　　My trunk of eild, but buss or beild,

　　Sinks in Time's wintry rage.

　　Oh, Age has weary days,

　　And nights o' sleepless pain:

　　Thou golden time, o' Youthfu' prime,

　　Why comes thou not again! Poems and Songs of Robert Burns